A/N: Soooo...this is a beginning of one hundred oneshots based on flowers! I am doing this for the summer, really. Something to pass the time with.

Disclaimer: I by no means own Twilight or its characters. This is non profit and I am doing this for fun.

ALL HUMAN

Characters mentioned: Edward, Rosalie, Emmett, a little mention of Carlisle

Rating: T

Genre: Family, Tragedy

Marigold: symbol of affection, cruelty, grief, jealousy

White is not a good color for her complexion.

It makes her look paler than she already is. Before she was a person who didn't go out much, and now she's someone who has been trapped in the darkness far, far too long. It made the bruise colored skin under her eyes look more prominent and the creases in her face from frowning stand out. The white sucks the fire out of her eyes and leaves her lifeless. It makes him feel restless, seeing her like this. No overly demeaning comments or dramatics anymore. No longer a person, just a windup doll. He can't stand it.

He decides to buy her flowers at the store downstairs. He wants something to brighten her room, something to make it seem like she's not going to disappear or fade into the background any moment. The only bright flowers they had at the store were marigolds and violets. He flinches when he sees the haunting plum colored flowers and buys her marigolds instead. As he passes the front desk, the receptionist calls to stop him from continuing.

"Sir," the woman starts in a giddy voice, "are you here to visit someone?"

The woman knows where he's going. She just wanted to stop him for the fun of it.

"Rosalie Lillian Hale, Room 14." He states, trying to keep the annoyance from creeping into his voice. The woman's eyes widen. So she didn't know. Her voice is now at a neutral tone and she directs him to Rosalie's room. He thanks the woman and she blushes. The sound of giggles from the same receptionist bounces down the halls as soon as he passes room eight. The lines on his forehead increase with his hatred of these places. The reason his father likes to work here leaves him dumfounded. Hospitals smell like piss and medicine. Why in the world would people enjoy spending whole days in such a dismal place laced in death? His thoughts are pushed aside when he enters her room and closes the door behind him.

"Rosalie?"

She doesn't answer. He sighs and continues.

"Rosalie, I brought you something."

He places the flowers by her bedstand and crinkles his nose at the sight of her. She still looks the same. Dead.

"Rosalie, I know you're sad, but think about it. We want you to be happy. Please, be happy. I know I'm not Emmett, but he's on a plane right now. He's going to be here soon. Please stop being like this. You're just like family, please– "

She puts a hand up to stop him from talking. Pain creeps up into her face and she peers at the ceiling through long lashes. She is stubborn and refuses to cry, despite him telling her it's okay to show emotion. Crying doe not make a person weak. She doesn't believe him and keeps her head held up high. Rosalie speaks in a voice so small that it is almost lost in the sounds of the busy hospital.

"Her name was going to be Marjorie, did you know that?"

The walls of the room seem to be closing in, suffocating them. Her defenses crumble and Rosalie begins to scream out in agony. She shouts and cries and asks 'why me, why' to the white walls of her room. Rosalie turns her body to face him and pounds her fists on his chest, despite being unable to do any damage.

"Why is it me? Oh please tell me, please!" she asks, continuing to hit him in the chest. He doesn't answer.

Rosalie soon tires out and settles for hitting her fists on her bed. He gulps and feels all the comforting words he knows die out in his mouth. No one's ever seen her cry. Hell, no one's ever seen her with an emotion other than arrogance. It's one of the few times Edward Anthony Masen Cullen has nothing to say. He just seats himself by her bed and watches her cry by the marigolds.

How'd you like it? I think it's okay. I want to try genres other than romance. I'm getting quite sick of romance. And by the way, if anyone wants to know...probably not, but I'm going to put side notes at the end if anyone's confused.

Reviews are love.